So this time, I did what I'd been planning to do for the longest time, and cooked the chicken, stripped it from its bones, and shoved it into the dehydrator. Come morning, we will have bone-dry chicken bits, suitable for shoving into random soups as meat. They'll keep quite a long time, one should think, especially if we got a vacuum packer.
If we can refrain from nibbling on them as if they were jerky. Mmm, jerky.
The bones with the residual meat that was too hot to get off are in the crock pot along with the juice, stewing and simmering so that I can toss it in the fridge and go after it with the big strainer later, and have soup ready once the last bits of that stew disappear.
Mama's chicken -- the baked chicken with the garlic -- really spoiled me for chicken cooked any other way. Also, I've found that some chicken isn't cooked well enough for me -- because I know how chickens live, and how clean they are, all my chicken must be fully done to overdone. Any hint of anything that looks like pinkness is enough to make me eat no more chicken, even though everybody else swears it's completely done.